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"Changing directions in life is not tragic. Losing passion in life is" - Max Lucado. Well... that happened, which is why I'm no longer on WtW. I'll be fine.

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February 22, 2019


My entire body shudders at the sound of the referee's voice. I start running toward my opponent, sand kicking up at my feet. I have always been known for my speed. Why I wrestle? I have no choice. 
I bend forward as soon as I near her, ready to go easy on her for her size and gender. Of course, the daughter of Mahavir Phogat will be allowed to wrestle a bunch of boys. I feel bad for him. His pride must have really sunk over the years. 
Her tiny hands slap against my bare back roughly, and I almost pull away. She was stronger than she looked. Pushing forward, I wrap my hands around her arm, hoping to throw her off balance. She does the same to me, shoving me backwards. 
I grit my teeth, hearing the yelling from the crowd. She can't win. 
Angrily, I push forward, hoping to knock her down. Her body stiffens and she braces against my shoves, her grip on my arms unrelenting. Sand is everywhere, kicking up around our feet as we dance to an unknown song. 
Sweat drips down my brow and into my eyes. I blink rapidly, hoping to clear them away. My head is against her covered shoulder, leaning against her weight. I want to stop and rest, but I can't. 
In my exhaustion, I lunge at her legs, but she slides backward effortlessly. I hurry back to my feet and grab onto her arms again, or heads interlocked. Angrily, I drop down and slap at her legs, hoping to knock her down. Instead, she runs around me, wrapping her muscular arm around my throat. 
I shove her off and stand again, bracing myself against her impact. We shove against one another, breathing heavily as sand hits our faces. We slide across the uneven sand, trying to find a way to knock the other down. 
I trip, my focus completely gone. The girl seizes the opportunity and slaps her hand against the side of my face. I grit my teeth and grab her other arm, pulling her toward the floor even as she pushes against my face. She drops and spins around, yanking her arm away from my grip. 
From her kneel, she grabs my calf and shove me backward, forcing me to lose my balance. I almost lose, but is saved by my desperation from falling onto my back. Laughter ensues from the audience, pouring into my numb ears. I want to stop, but I can't. My father is in that audience. I can't stop. 
I get back to my feet and slap at her body, anger pouring out of every hit. She does the same to me, her expression fierce. As I pose for another attack, she slaps my arms up and tackles my torso. I stumble backward, falling onto my back. Her entire weight drops onto me as she tries to hold me down. I drag myself forward, trying to lift myself from the sand.
"Will you embarrass us?" is the distinct voice I hear from the audience. My body stiffens as the referee blows the whistle and we get back up. 
I am no longer only angry. I am completely pissed. No disgusting tomboy is going to force me to lose my pride. She should go right back to the unheard of town she was born in. 
As the referee yells, "Shuru!", I barrel against the girl's thick frame. We slap at each other, but I channel all my strength and slap her head. She straightens, confusion and anger lighting her eyes, as the referee gives me a penalty point. I don't care. She deserves worse than that. 
As we start again, I decide to use my height and strength against her. Forget taking it easy on her, as I'd been told to do. She will have to deal with my true fighting skills. 
We shove against one another until I wrap my arms around her waist and shove her down. I feel her panic swell as she tries to scramble away, but I don't let her. Forget being nice. Forget being polite. Forget the fact that she's a girl. 
I try to lift her, ready to body slam this pathetic excuse for a wrestler into the sand. As I prepare to slam her down, her agility kicks in and she does a cartwheel once her feet hit the ground. 
She shoves me to the ground and pushes down on me, grabbing my arm and bending it behind my back. I hear claps and cheers from the audience, angering me further. I push myself up and grab onto her waist, tossing her over my back. I expected her to fall on her back, but she holds her bottom up with her legs. As I attempt to push her down, her tiny hand slaps my face and pushes me back. We get back on our feet, trading turns knocking each other to the ground. 
No matter what, I won't let this stupid tomboy get the better of me. No one like her deserves to be in this pit, much less win a fight. I refuse to let her win.
The movie this is based on is also called Dangal. Here's the IMDb link.
However, just be aware that this story is not the same one in the movie. I used the same title, but it's from the point of view of a minor character and is from my imagination. However, this scene did occur in the beginning of the movie. 


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  • February 22, 2019 - 5:49pm (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Quille

    .................... That was a breathtaking read :) I really got lost in it and just wow! The determination of the character was so real and then the rush of anger at almost losing to the girl! Such a wonderful piece :DD Fantastic job!!!

    8 months ago